


Kiss

by AutisticWriter



Series: Autistic Headcanons [35]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Anxiety, Asexual Character, Asexual Doctor (Doctor Who), Asexuality, Autism, Autism Spectrum, Autistic Doctor, Autistic Fifth Doctor, Awkwardness, Coming Out, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Gay Male Character, Gender Dysphoria, Homoromantic Asexual Fifth Doctor, Implied/Referenced Transphobia, Kissing, M/M, Nightmares, One Shot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sensory problems, Sexual Content, Social Issues, Stimming, Trans Fifth Doctor, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 13:11:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11014125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutisticWriter/pseuds/AutisticWriter
Summary: As their relationship develops, Turlough learns more about the Doctor than he ever thought he would. And the Doctor discovers that he can trust Turlough with some of his deepest secrets.





	Kiss

The Doctor had many sensory issues, but one had gone unnoticed. It wasn’t until he and Turlough were kissing one day that they discovered he couldn’t do what humans called ‘French Kissing’ (also described by the Doctor as ‘putting your tongues in each other’s mouths and exchanging saliva’). As soon as Turlough slipped his tongue into his mouth, he pulled away sharply, wiping his lips on the back of his hand.

“Are you all right?” Turlough asked, watching the Doctor scrub his lips.

“Yes, I’m fine,” he said, but he was starting to rock backwards and forwards.

“You’re not, are you?”

The Doctor smiled sheepishly. “No, not really. That was rather unpleasant. It felt... slimy. I’m not sure I can do it. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Turlough said, putting his arm around the Doctor’s shoulders. “I’m not too keen either. I think it’s overrated.”

Hugging him tightly, the Doctor grinned and kissed his cheek.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Turlough said, and the Doctor kissed him again. “But you’re welcome.”

\---

In the console room, Turlough found the Doctor sat on the floor, leaning against the wall as he read a book. He sat down beside him, and leaned against the Doctor’s shoulder. The Doctor smiled when he spotted him, before going back to his book. Turlough began to read the book, but he could barely keep up with the Doctor, a very fast reader. Shaking his head, he sighed in mock exasperation and gave the Doctor a kiss.

The Doctor went red, but returned the kiss, the book falling to the floor as his hands moved to rest on Turlough’s waist. The Doctor’s hand moved up to run his fingers through Turlough’s short hair, and Turlough’s trailed down the Doctor’s back, prompting a shiver from the Doctor.

“Can I put my hand under your shirt?” he asked between kisses, his hands stopping at the Doctor’s loose shirt tails.

To his surprise, the Doctor pulled away, folding his arms across his chest. He shook his head, actual panic in his eyes.

“No,” he said. “I mean... please don’t. I mean, I’d rather you didn’t.”

He looked so worried, but Turlough had no idea why. “What’s wrong, Doctor?”

“Nothing’s wrong!” the Doctor said, a little too loud. He began to rock slightly, something he only did when he was stressed. “I’m fine. I’d just prefer it if you didn’t touch my chest. I’m... rather self conscious about it.”

Turlough frowned, confused. But then he smiled, attempting to look reassuring but not quite succeeding. “Well, then, I won’t touch your chest. Can I... can I ask why you reacted so strongly?”

“Strongly?”

“You know, worried. You looked positively terrified when I asked.”

He watched the Doctor gulp, and regretted asking. The Doctor was obviously panicked, and he shouldn’t be stressing him further. But before he had time to say anything, the Doctor spoke.

“I’m... I’m transgender,” he said, forcing his words out. He rocked more visibly, his hands starting to flap.

Turlough stared at him, wondering why he looked so worried when he hadn’t said anything outrageous or shocking. But then he remembered the Time Lords, a race hardly known for their acceptance of people who didn’t fit their antiquated standards of gender or sexuality. Of course if the Doctor had grown up in an environment like that this would be big news.

“Is this why you’ve been reluctant to... get more intimate?” he asked, suddenly understanding the Doctor’s hesitation to do anything more intimate than kissing.

The Doctor nodded. “I’m very body conscious. And I was worried that you might... not like me anymore.” He ducked his head. “You... you don’t hate me now, do you, Turlough?”

“Of course I don’t,” he said. “The whole universe isn’t as bigoted as your home planet, you know. Or Earth, for that matter. I’ve no reason to hate you. Nothing’s changed.”

“So, you’re not shocked?”

“What’s there to be shocked about?” Turlough said. “Being trans isn’t shocking. It’s normal.”

For a second, it looked like there were tears in the Doctor’s eyes. But then he smiled, giving Turlough the biggest grin he had ever seen. It was wonderful, yet also sad, because Turlough now knew that the Doctor had spent their whole relationship worrying about something that wasn’t a big deal at all.

\---

The Doctor wasn’t the best at flirting. He couldn’t tell actually romantic gestures from the awfully cheesy ones, which had led to some bizarre situations (including the time he gave Turlough a rather explicit card in front of Tegan, not having picked up on the very rude innuendo). He couldn’t get the hang of a seductive tone of voice either, which often spoiled the moment when they both started laughing.

But Turlough didn’t care. He knew the Doctor struggled with social skills, and that didn’t bother him. It just meant their relationship was a bit blunter than most people’s.

One evening, the Doctor approached him in a corridor in the TARDIS, and asked him if he wanted to have sex with him. His exact words were, “Turlough, would you like to have sex with me?” But Turlough didn’t laugh, because he knew the Doctor probably hadn’t been able to think of a more flirty way to ask that question. And there was nothing wrong with being blunt; that way, they both knew exactly what was going on. Being vague was overrated.

Of course, Turlough said yes, despite his slight anxiety at having his first sexual experience with the Doctor; he always worried that he might ruin his first time with someone, even though it hadn’t happened before. And the Doctor kissed him and grinned, before telling him he would be ready in five minutes and rushing off.

His heart racing (whether it was from anticipation or anxiety Turlough couldn’t tell), Turlough dashed off to get ready. Once he had freshened up and exactly five minutes had gone by, he went to his and the Doctor’s bedroom and knocked on the door.

“It’s me.”

“Come in,” the Doctor called.

He entered the room. The Doctor was lying on the double bed, the thick blankets tucked up right under his armpits. But the blankets were also pulled up so his bare legs and underpants were on display. He looked anxious, and was flapping his hands slightly.

“Please don’t laugh,” he said when he saw him. “Only I can’t wear my binder and do anything too... strenuous, but I... I can’t look at my chest. Do you understand?”

Turlough sighed, hating seeing the Doctor looking so stressed (and also understanding why the Doctor slept on his front). “Of course I do. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

The Doctor smiled and held out his hand. Turlough took it and sat down on the bed. The Doctor gave him a quick kiss, rubbing his fingers against Turlough’s hands.

“Thank you,” he whispered when Turlough pulled away.

He didn’t bother to point out that the Doctor didn’t need to thank him. They kissed again, until they were both out of breath and Turlough felt a throbbing sensation in his groin.

“So... what should we do?” he asked, nuzzling the Doctor’s ear with his nose.

The Doctor’s cheeks flushed bright red. He cleared his throat, but he still mumbled as he said, “Would it be all right if we... if you... if I keep my underpants on and you...” the Doctor sighed. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I don’t know if it’s even in my vocabulary.”

“Why don’t you show me?”

Smiling gratefully, the Doctor pointed at the small bulge in his underpants. “Could you maybe put your hand there and rub my packer through my pants? I know its effective, because that’s how I... masturbate.”

Turlough hated seeing the Doctor looking so embarrassed. After all, sex was nothing to be ashamed about.

“Do you masturbate often?” he asked, hoping discussing the topic frankly would help the Doctor feel less embarrassed.

The Doctor nodded, suddenly looking very interested in the ceiling. “Not very often, but I do. It’s more practical than pleasure, really.”

“Is that because you’re asexual?”

“I think so... it’s more about just relieving pressure and relaxing me. I don’t think about anyone while I do it, because I’m not sexually attracted to anyone... no offense...” The Doctor smiled awkwardly. “Sorry for talking about this. It must be weird for you.”

“Not at all,” Turlough said. “I think it’s important. After all, I need to know how sex works for you now you’re my partner.”

The Doctor grinned and kissed him. “Thanks. Should we... should we get started?”

“If you’re ready.”

The Doctor kissed him. “I’m ready.”

Smiling, Turlough moved his hand to where the Doctor had pointed, and let it rest against the Doctor’s groin. He felt the softness of his packer through his underpants, and guessed that he had found the right place.

“Here?” he said, wanting to be sure.

“Yes, there.”

He pressed down on the packer and began to rub it, letting it slowly grind against the Doctor’s groin. This obviously had the desired effect, because the Doctor let out a low moan.

“Is that all right?” he asked.

“It’s perfect, perfect perfect perfect,” the Doctor mumbled, his voice wavering. He carried on mumbling until Turlough kissed him, and he felt the Doctor smile.

He trailed kisses along the Doctor’s jaw, and the Doctor made a shuddering noise. Turlough pulled back quickly, hoping he hadn’t hurt the Doctor. But he wasn’t hurt.

He was laughing.

The Doctor looked up at him, his flushed face contorted as he giggled.

“That tickled,” the Doctor said, brushing his hand across his jaw.

Turlough grinned, relieved. “I didn’t know you were ticklish there.”

The Doctor raised his eyebrows, and gave him what was probably supposed to be a seductive smile. “I’m ticklish in lots of places.”

Turlough smiled and kissed him again. His hand moved back to the Doctor’s groin, and soon the Doctor was sweating, his breathing shuddering as he moaned. His arms were spread out at his sides, his fingers fluttering against the bed sheets. His own groin was throbbing, his arousal getting more intense with every moan that the Doctor made.

“F-Faster, please,” the Doctor mumbled, his voice trembling.

Turlough grinned and picked up his pace, his hand rubbing faster and faster until—

“Aah!” the Doctor cried, and his hips bucked up against Turlough’s hand. And then he groaned, slumping back against the pillows.

Sitting back on his haunches, Turlough stared at the Doctor, who had his eyes shut. He was breathing heavily, his face red and sweaty, his body limp. Right then, with his hands still fluttering and that wonderful contented smile on his face, Turlough thought the Doctor looked absolutely perfect.

Once the Doctor had his breath back, he opened his eyes and smiled at Turlough. He smiled back, and watched as the Doctor’s eyes moved down his body and focused on Turlough’s groin.

“Um, do you... do you want me to...” the Doctor trailed off. “Um, would you like me to stimulate your genitals with my hand?”

Turlough wanted to laugh, but he knew the Doctor wasn’t trying to be funny. Instead he smiled and nodded. “I’d love you to. Are you sure you’re all right with that?”

“I’m sure.” The Doctor nodded and shuffled into a more upright position, holding onto the blankets so his chest wasn’t exposed. “Before we do this, Turlough, I do need to ask you one thing.”

Turlough glanced at the Doctor’s face, spotting a familiar panicked look in his eyes. “What’s that?”

“It’s not that important, really...”

“Trust me, Doctor, this is important if it matters to you,” Turlough insisted, giving the Doctor’s knee a pat. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Or me for that matter. Anyway, communication is important. So, please, tell me.”

The Doctor smiled weakly. “Well, it’s just... when I, I...” his face flushing again, the Doctor made a brief motion with his hand, miming giving someone a hand job. “When I do that, well, can you please not cover my hands with your own? You know, like this.” The Doctor reached out and tightly grasped Turlough’s hand as it rested on his leg, squeezing his knuckles tight enough for it to actually hurt. He pulled away sharply and flapped his hands. “Because whenever someone does that... it triggers... memories...”

The Doctor didn’t elaborate, but Turlough understood him. Ever since the Doctor explained his autism to him, Turlough had known about the hateful ‘therapy’ done to him when he was a child. He presumed that covering the Doctor’s hands to force him to complete an action was one of their tactics, and he couldn’t bear to think about someone hurting the Doctor. And he knew from bitter personal experience what setting the Doctor’s flashbacks off looked like, and his stomach cramped with guilt at the memory. No, he didn’t want to think about that at all, let alone cause it.

“I understand,” he said, making a mental note never to cover the Doctor’s hands like that. “I promise I won’t do that. I promise.”

The Doctor smiled and kissed Turlough’s forehead, just below his hairline.

“I’ve never done this before,” the Doctor said. “So, please tell me if I do it wrong.”

Turlough nodded, despite knowing the Doctor wouldn’t do it wrong at all.

“Right, so...”

“Yeah, let’s do this,” Turlough said, and he kissed the Doctor.

Shuffling awkwardly, Turlough pulled his pants down, and he glanced at the Doctor.

“One hand or two?” the Doctor asked.

“I don’t mind. Whatever you prefer.”

The Doctor grinned nervously, and kissed his lips as he grasped him with both hands. Turlough gasped, and the Doctor chuckled, the vibration of his laugh tickling Turlough’s lips. The Doctor stroked him a couple of times, and then broke the kiss.

“Am I doing it right?”

“Perfect,” Turlough said, smiling reassuringly. “You’re a natural.”

The Doctor grinned back and kissed him again. The Doctor moved his hands perfectly, and Turlough moaned into his mouth. Considering this was his first time, his partner was very skilled, and it only took two minutes for Turlough to come. He muffled his cry as he climaxed, not wanting to hurt the Doctor’s sensitive ears, and slumped against the bed.

The Doctor rested his head on his shoulder, his hair tickling Turlough’s neck. They lay there in silence for a while, the only audible sound their heavy breathing.

After a while, the Doctor kissed him. “Thank you, Turlough.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, still a bit out of breath.

“No, really, thank you,” the Doctor said, and there were tears in his eyes. “I didn’t... I... just thank you.”

“What are you talking about?” Turlough said, smiling fondly and trying to ignore the tightness in his chest as he saw the Doctor near tears. “And why are you upset?”

“I’m not upset,” the Doctor said, and he sniffed. “I’m happy. Ever since I regenerated, I have been so scared of telling anyone that I’m trans. I was so worried that no one would accept me, that everyone would hate me. But... now I know I can trust you. You accept me, you understand my problems, and you don’t hate me.”

“Of course I don’t hate you,” Turlough said, kissing the Doctor’s tear-stained face. “I love you.”

The Doctor kissed his lips, grinning through his tears. “I love you too.”

\---

One night, Turlough was awoken by a blow to the chest. Starting awake, he stared around him, struggling to see anything in the near darkness. His heart was racing, his breathing impaired by whatever just hit him. Confused and a bit panicked, Turlough glanced at his chest, and found one of the Doctor’s tightly clenched hands lying on his chest. Had the Doctor just hit him?

He turned his head, and found that his partner was still asleep. The Doctor was flat on his back, his arms spread wide so one hand dangled off the side of the bed and the other rested on Turlough’s chest. Now he understood; the Doctor had obviously moved his arms in his sleep and accidentally punched his chest.

Carefully moving the Doctor’s arm, Turlough propped himself up on one elbow and took another look at the Doctor. He took in his clenched fists and the oddly tense expression on the Doctor’s face, and he had to wonder if the Doctor was all right. After all, weren’t people meant to be relaxed in their sleep?

The Doctor’s head jerked to one side, his face contorting into a frown. He let out a groan, and his hands slammed against the bed.

And then Turlough finally understood: the Doctor was having a nightmare.

In his confused, sleep-deprived state, Turlough struggled to think of what he was meant to do. He remembered something the Doctor told him about having nightmares, and one thing the Doctor said stood out clear in his foggy mind: _“If you want to wake me up, please call my name. If you touch me, I might hit you, and I don’t want you to get hurt._ ” And he still thought that the Doctor worrying about Turlough when the Doctor was the one suffering was such a Doctor-y thing to do.

Still, he decided to follow the Doctor’s advice. Turlough got out of bed and took a few steps backwards before whispering, “Doctor?”

When that had no effect, he tried again, louder this time. “Doctor?”

The Doctor didn’t hear him, letting out a gasping breath as one of his legs kicked out under the blanket.

“Doctor!”

His body jolting slightly, the Doctor’s eyes opened. Turlough watched him look all around him, breathing heavily, before his eyes focused on Turlough. And then his head flopped back against the pillow and he let out a shuddering sigh. As he began to flap his hands, Turlough was horrified to find tears beginning to dribble down his face.

Jumping back into the bed, Turlough shuffled towards the Doctor, who was sobbing softly, tears running across his temples and into his ears.

“Doctor?” he said cautiously, making sure to keep his voice quiet. And, although he knew afterwards how stupid a question it was, he added, “Are you all right?”

The Doctor moved his mouth as though trying to speak, but he didn’t say anything. Other than his shuddering sobs, he was silent. And Turlough was sure he knew why.

“Have you gone nonverbal?” he asked.

The Doctor nodded.

“Um... do you want a hug?”

The Doctor nodded again, and he gave Turlough a weak, teary smile. Smiling back, Turlough lay down beside the Doctor and let the Doctor snuggle up beside him, burrowing his face into his shoulder. He felt the Doctor’s body shake as he sobbed, his tears soon soaking through Turlough’s shirt. But he didn’t care; as long as he was here, holding his partner has he broke down, and trying his best to help the Doctor through this, then that was all right with him.


End file.
